Chapter 34
Isent Isabella a text and asked her to look into Elias Thorne.
JD and I hopped into the Porsche and set out to find Frank Bledsoe. He was worth looking into, though it seemed like a bit of a stretch.
I knocked on the door.
Sounds from the TV spilled down the foyer.
Footsteps shuffled close, and the peephole flickered. A gruff voice barked, “What the hell do you want?”
I flashed my badge to the lens.
Frank pulled open the door, and his tired eyes flicked between the two of us. The retired firefighter was 73 years old and looked every bit of it. Once a strapping man, he was now frail and weak. A nasal cannula fed his nostrils and hung around his ears. The tube connected to a rolling oxygen tank.
In his day, Frank stood about 6’1”. Now, with the hunch, he was closer to 5’10”.
His puffy blue eyes had seen a lot in his time.
Most of his hair was gone except for wispy tufts of brown and gray on the sides.
He had a bulbous nose, sagging jowls, and quite a few sunspots.
"You sure as hell don't look like cops."
I laughed. "We get that a lot.”
"What do you want?"
"We just have a few routine questions for you," I said.
His face tightened, and his wrinkled eyes narrowed with suspicion. "No such thing as routine. I’ve been around long enough to know that nothing good ever comes from talking to you boys. No offense."
I smiled. "None taken.”
Frank didn't close the door. Against his better judgment, he stood there out of curiosity, I assume.
"It’s my understanding you made quite the commotion at Thorne Wentworth and Associates not too long ago.”
Frank's face soured. "I didn't make a big enough commotion, if you ask me. Nothing's changed.”
"Did you make threats?”
"I didn't threaten nobody. But I sure as hell voiced my opinion. Every one of them son-of-a-bitches can rot in hell as far as I’m concerned. It's downright criminal what they done.”
"I’m told the board made some speculative investments that went south.”
Frank scoffed. "I'll say.”
"Sounds like an issue that needs to be taken up with the pension fund."
He glared at me. "Oh, I told those nitwits exactly how I felt as well.
Who's accountable? Nobody, that's who. They play around with other people's money, lose it all, and nothing ever happens.
Meanwhile, everything got more expensive.
My pension stayed the same. I'm scraping by, not able to pay my medical bills.
My wife passed last year from cancer, leaving me with a mountain of medical debt.
I'm not gonna burden my son by asking him for help. That just doesn't seem right to me. He just got laid off. AI took his job.” Frank shook his head. “It’s just not fair. We all made sacrifices. Hell, I can barely breathe from years of smoke inhalation.”
Frank was in no condition to sabotage a cryo-tube. I didn't think he had the technical know-how to hack into the cryo lab’s servers.
"Tell me about your son. What kind of work did he do?"
"He works with computers. I don't really know the ins and outs of it. Information technology or some shit like that. He’s got a wife and two kids, and he doesn't need to be spending any money on me. He’s barely getting along himself. No job, and can’t find one.
Everybody’s cutting staff. Plus, that’s an industry where there’s always some 20-year-old wiz kid willing to do your job for half the price.
I tell him I’m getting along just fine. He doesn't need to worry none about me. "
"That's admirable."
"Shit, it ain't admirable. It's just how it is.” Frank frowned and shook his head. “I thought I was doing everything I was supposed to do. I worked my whole life. Saved. Didn’t splurge. Turns out it wasn't enough."
I shared a sympathetic frown. "Can you tell me where you were last night between midnight and 2:00 AM?"
He looked at me like I was crazy. It was a silly question to ask, given his current situation. "I was out with two hookers snorting cocaine all night,” he snarked. “Where the hell do you think I was at, son?”
"I take it you were here at the apartment?"
"Well, look at the big brain on Detective Dipshit."
I laughed.
He pointed down the hallway to a plush recliner. "Fell asleep in the chair, watching reruns. Got up around 2:00 AM to piss, then went to bed.” An annoyed scowl tensed his face. "What's this about, anyway?”
"Lance Wentworth is dead.”
Frank didn't seem disappointed. "The Grim Reaper comes for us all. What's that got to do with me?"
"We're just having a conversation with everyone who was at odds with Lance and his firm."
"Well, I guess you've got a big job ahead of you. I'm sure there are a ton of people in the same situation I am."
"Does your son live here on the island?”
"He does.”
"I'd like to talk to him."
Frank's brow wrinkled. "About what?”
"Just to rule him out as a suspect.”
Frank's face twisted again. "My son ain't no suspect. I don't know what you're getting at, but I don't like it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got better things to do.”
Frank slammed the door, and I didn't blame him.
We walked back to the Porsche.
"Think his kid hacked into the lab and caused trouble? I mean, without a job, he does have a lot of free time on his hands, I'm guessing."
I shrugged. "I doubt it, but it's worth looking into."
We hopped into the Porsche, and I called Denise. I asked her to run background on Frank Bledsoe. It didn't take her long to come up with his son's name, Sean. He lived on the island on Mercury Street.
I sent his info to Isabella—one more person for her to dig into.
We drove to Sean’s house, parked at the curb, and pushed through the gate of the white picket fence.
He lived with his family in a small cottage home with a red brick walkway, yellow siding, and white trim.
There was a nice wraparound veranda, and the yard was well-maintained with lush foliage and a few tall palms. Sean wouldn’t be keeping a place like this for long if he couldn’t find another job.
It wasn't Stingray Bay, but a house like this didn't come cheap in Coconut Key.
I knocked on the door, and a few moments later, footsteps ambled down the foyer. Sean peered through the distorted glass in the door and said, "I’m not talking to you."
Frank had obviously called him and given him a heads-up.
I displayed my badge and said, "We just have a few questions. We’re hoping you can help.”
"I just talked to my father. You’re not here to help.”
"A simple conversation could help us clear you off the list."
"I'm not on a list.”
"Yes, you are.”
Sean hesitated a moment, then unlatched the deadbolt and pulled open the door.
His concerned eyes darted between the two of us.
Sean was in his mid-40s with shaggy dark hair, brown eyes, and a narrow face.
He must have taken after his mother, because he didn't look anything like his father.
"Look, dad said that you guys were asking about a murder or something.”
"Lance Wentworth.”
"That's the finance guy, right?”
I nodded.
"I saw something about that on the news.”
"I’ll get to the point. We think someone may have breached the network at Infinite Horizons Cryo-Therapeutics.”
"And you think because I work in IT, that I might have done that.”
I shrugged. "If the shoe fits."
"The shoe doesn’t fit. I'm not a hacker. I didn’t kill anybody. What possible reason would I have to kill Lance Wentworth?”
"Your dad's financial situation sounds like a pretty good motive to me."
His brow knitted. "What do you mean, my dad's financial situation?”
I shared a glance with JD. Frank had obviously done a good job keeping his financial woes from Sean, just like he said.
"Mr. Wentworth's firm was handling some of the investments for the pension fund.”
Sean looked genuinely confused. "So?”
"Can you tell me where you were last night between midnight and 2:00 AM?”
"I was here at the house.”
"Can anyone verify that?”
"My wife, but she's not here right now. She's at work. The kids are in school.”
"Were you on the computer at that time?"
Sean huffed with irritation. "I'm not stupid. If I were going to hack into a system, I sure as hell wouldn't do it from my house.”
"How would you do it?"
"I wouldn’t do it at all. It's stupid. And what would it accomplish anyway?
You know what goes into high-level hacking?
Do you know how many precautions you have to take?
There are so many ways you can leave breadcrumbs on the Internet.
You really have to know what you're doing.
That kind of stuff is way out of my area of expertise.
Now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, this conversation is over.”
He closed the door and locked the deadbolt.
I got the sense he was telling the truth. A guy like Sean had too much to risk. And there was zero financial gain from sabotaging Wentworth’s cryo-pod.
My phone buzzed with a call from Piper. "I got in. You're gonna want to see this."
JD and I hurried back to the Porsche, hopped in, and sped back to the Avventura.